“The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.”

This is from a poem I read ten years ago. This is from a poem that inspired a tattoo two years ago when I wrote the words “invite them in” with eyeliner, as skillfully as a layman can, on my inner bicep.
This is from a poem that as of yesterday, I have tattooed on my arm.

It reminds me to let all of my emotions hangout in their guestrooms. And two years ago, many of the guests had questions about the prospect of getting a tattoo:

What if I regret it?
What if I can’t tolerate the pain?
What if I contract a disease?

Pretty standard. The guests permitted a consult with an artist. However, the consult was not a good experience and the idea was shelved–until I picked up my eyeliner again a few months later.

The new guests asked “what if I’m allergic?” followed by “what if there’s carcinogens in the ink?” They insisted upon fear-mongering research. The fear of an allergic reaction festered the most because of my sensitive skin, not to mention my skin’s ability of once turning a mosquito bite into a pyogenic granuloma.

I consulted with a few people who likely meant well but their responses fed the guests more sustenance. The idea was placed back on the shelf until just a few months ago when I stumbled across a local apprentice’s work and fell in love with her dainty, crisp lines. If I was going to take a chance on all my fears, it was going to be with her

But first things first: write a novel of questions to the shop owner about safety concerns. A mere sampling:

When do the needles expire?
Is the shop blood borne pathogen certified?
(They are! But I’m pretty confident this is not a standard question).

Before I knew it, the deposit was out of my pocket and my appointment was booked.

I became what felt like the client from hell in the days leading up to my appointment.

Was the font loopy enough?
Too loopy?
Too big?
Too small?

I took comfort in knowing that my inspiration photos held steady for two years but making my vision a reality was both agonizing and exciting. Agonizing when I had printouts of tentative versions taped onto my arm. Exciting when we did a test run of the stencil the night before and realized all that was left was to enlarge it slightly.

Things become agonizing again a few hours later when I went to wash off the stencil. It. Wasn’t. Coming. Off.

Yes, it faded. But I wanted it gone.

What if the longer I waited, the harder it would be to get off?
What if it interferes with the placement of tomorrow’s stencil?
What if this results in me regretting the placement?
What if I can’t tell whether I like the stencil?

I tried soap, makeup removers, an acne face wash, argon oil–whatever the bathroom supplied. It was tenacious, that stencil.  I then grabbed a washcloth and scrubbed. I scrubbed so vigorously that I popped a few blood vessels and was left with a burning arm. This sent my OCD into a tailspin.

What if the broken blood vessels mess up the tattoo process?
What if it doesn’t heal properly?
What if I end up with a deformed arm?
What if it warps the shape of the tattoo?
What if they don’t know the answer to my concern?
What if they are wrong?
How could I have scrubbed like that?
Why didn’t I take the stencil off right away?

I could fix this. I could heal it with lotion. I would apply enough to cure it overnight.

I was advised by various people, “wait and see what it looks like in the morning.”

I looked at it at 6am. The popped vessels were still visible. I sent photos to friends, featuring a zoomed in version and a bonus collage comparing the status from night to morning.

“Melanie I don’t even see anything.”

“Melanie I wouldn’t worry about it.”

Too late. Already saw it. Already worried.

I was in a panic and felt an urgency to analyze the situation incessantly. The tattoo was in a few hours.

It wasn’t until a friend connected me with a tattoo artist who not only hastattoos but has OCD as well. He brought me to a point where I felt I had the facts. I was able to see that the OCD had commandeered my excitement. I was back. But not without anxiety.

On the drive to my appointment, I oriented my friend Krista to the location of my juice and snacks in case I felt faint. I reviewed my notes with her–questions to ask, things for her to remind me of. I informed her that I had aponcho stuffed in my purse in case I became cold or started shaking.

I wanted any control I could still hold onto. But once we arrived, I knew I had to start loosening my grip. I had to be calm. I had to be calm despite not getting a good night’s rest or eating a hearty meal as I had researched to do prior to a tattoo. I asked my rigmarole of what felt like painstakingly embarrassing questions, knowing that as each question was answered, I had to let up on my grip.

Laying down on the table was like a ceremonial surrender. But fear quickly found a way to join me in the experience.

What if I flinch and ruin the tattoo as a result?
What if I get startled and move?

I used that fear as motivation to keep still and to squeeze Krista’s hand when it hurt.

They say a tattoo feels like a cat scratch on a sunburn. I haven’t experienced that. So if someone asks me what it feels like, I’ll say that it’s not as bad as vigorously rubbing a washcloth repeatedly over an area of skin until it’s red and burning.

But what hurt more than anything else was the anticipatory anxiety. Yet it was also that familiar feeling that helped me commit to my decision toproceed with getting a tattoo.

I know anticipatory anxiety will return, being the frequent flyer that it is. But when it does, I’ll know what to do.

We recently learned of a web resource that provides helpful information for individuals with OCD who are also fighting substance abuse and addiction. Researchers have found that as many as 3 million adults may have OCD at a single time. Many people suffering from OCD attempt to alleviate their anxieties with drugs or alcohol and can often develop a co-occurring substance abuse disorder.

Here’s the website:

https://www.drugrehab.com/co-occurring-disorder/ocd/

By Melanie Lefebvre

OCD is not a meme.

It’s 3 letters that should be seen,

for the reality

of what can feel like tragedy.

“I’m so OCD.”

Self-proclamations knock me to my knees.

An injustice to the torment,

the terrorizing dread.

You don’t recognize its breadth.

“I’m so OCD.”

Said with such glee,

thrown on like an accessory.

While there’s me,

an uninterrupted factory,

custom orders of fear and guilt,

stitched together like a quilt.

That’s my accessory.

Let’s make a trade.

Maybe then you’ll be swayed,

and realize the adjective needs to be slayed.

Try it on for size,

think of all that dies.

Try on being a pawn,

think of everything that could go wrong.

Wrap my quilt around you,

let it concoct its brew.

Breathe in the suffocation,

exhale the damnation.

The castration

of hope.

A slippery slope.

Am I out of your scope?

“I’m so OCD.”

Is it still your choice accessory?

By Alison Dotson

Sometimes I can’t believe how much progress has been made in OCD awareness in recent years, and I feel so lucky to have had access to fantastic care and understanding people when I was diagnosed with OCD 10 years ago. We have a long way to go with many people still conflating OCD with a germ phobia or an obsession with being organized, but progress is being made—sometimes in leaps and bounds.

When I was diagnosed in 2006 there was very little information about taboo intrusive thoughts—which was why Lee Baer’s book The Imp of the Mind was such a godsend—and that contributed to guilt, shame, and confusion. It’s why I was diagnosed 10 years ago, not 15, 20, or even 25 years ago.

Now there’s a site dedicated completely to intrusive thoughts, those nagging, embarrassing, and unrelenting obsessions many of us with OCD struggle with. It’s called, quite aptly, IntrusiveThoughts.org, and was founded by a man named Aaron Harvey, who suffered from taboo intrusive thoughts himself for 20 years before being diagnosed with OCD. Aaron wanted to give back to the OCD community and help others realize they weren’t alone even though they undoubtedly felt alone.

Check out the site to learn more about symptoms and treatment and to find helpful resources, including videos from people with OCD as well as a therapist. Maybe you think you’re the only one in the world who has pedophilia OCD because no one ever seems to talk about it—well, think again. IntrusiveThoughts.org talks about it. That and scrupulosity OCD, relationship OCD, harm OCD, homosexuality OCD, and, more broadly, pure O.

Here’s what I find the most promising about the site: The media coverage of it! I’ve seen countless articles about it, in publications I never imagined would devote space to a rather niche topic. With resources like our site and IntrusiveThoughts.org, awareness of intrusive thoughts can only continue to grow and help more and more people. People care. And honestly, that’s amazing. People who have hurt as much as we have care enough to devote their time to spreading awareness and inspiring hope.

Check out the Intrusive Thoughts website: http://www.intrusivethoughts.org/

By Melanie Lefebvre

The media perpetuates stereotypes about OCD. This, we know. Take Khloe Kardashian and her “KHLO-C-D” video segments. Hollywood Life is all over it, quoting a snippet from her video on how she organizes her closet:

“All my shirts are long-sleeves but they go in order — so this is my black section, and then I go from color, so I always end with black and I start with white. This whole side is my colored leggings, whatever, which is grays, prints — I try to also put them in order of length.”

 Hollywood Life comments, “Wow, now that is serious OCD!” then asks its readers to weigh in:  “What do you guys think of this video? Are you as impressed as we are with Khloe?”

Let’s pause. They are impressed with “serious OCD.” When OCD becomes severe, it sometimes requires intensive therapy like residential treatment programs.

And then there’s some doctors:

Me: I think I might have OCD.

Doctor: Do you wash your hands for hours every day?

Me: No.

Doctor: Do you constantly need to line things up perfectly?

Me: No.

Doctor: You don’t have OCD.

(I have OCD.)

I may as well have spoken with someone in the waiting room. He gave the impression that OCD is one of two very specific things and that those two very specific things are all-consuming. That dialogue occurred years ago yet I still hear about similar encounters within the medical profession today.

Something’s gotta give.

Thankfully, websites like Intrusive Thoughts and The Secret Illness have our back!

Some people are aware that OCD can involve a fear of their home burning down and that people may check the stove as a result. But what about taking appliances to work in an attempt to prevent a house fire?

The Secret Illness has a gamut of examples from real people across the globe describing the variations that OCD can take. One contributor shares how she brought her straightener to work with her for reassurance that it wasn’t plugged in at home.

The words, “I fear I could harm someone I love” show up in bold, large lettering as you explore Intrusive Thoughts.

Still impressed, Hollywood Life?

You might be wondering, why is someone with OCD worrying about whether they’ll harm someone? How does this have anything to do with OCD?

OCD is not as mysterious as some think. The pattern is this:

Obsessive Thought –> Anxiety –> Compulsion –> Temporary Relief

Sure, it can be hand washing:

Obsessive Thought (What if I get sick) –> Anxiety (heart racing, panicky) –> Compulsion (washing my hands) –> Temporary Relief (good I don’t feel as anxious anymore)

But what if I didn’t wash my hands enough and I get sick…?

And the cycle repeats.

It can be fear of harming someone:

Obsessive Thought (what if I stab my husband while chopping these vegetables?) –> Anxiety (heart racing, panicky) –> Compulsion (put the knife away, check that the knives are all put away) –> Temporary Relief (good I don’t feel as anxious anymore)

But what if I stab him with the letter opener…?

And the cycle repeats.

OCD latches onto our values, to what’s near and dear to us. It can touch on anything from religion to relationships and everything in-between. That’s why it may give the illusion that it’s complicated. That’s why people may say, “I just don’t get it.”

When this happens, return to the cycle:

Obsessive thought –> Anxiety –> Compulsion –> Temporary Relief

That’s OCD. Right there.

http://hollywoodlife.com/2016/03/22/khloe-kardashian-fitness-closet-organization-watch-organize/

http://www.intrusivethoughts.org/

https://thesecretillness.com/